The Collected Letters, Volume 30

No Mr. Tait! I am not in Scotland—nor on the road to Scotland! I am sitting at this moment on one of Mr. Neuberg's thick-stuffed chairs at Willesden!!!1 In two hours I shall be please God in my own house, at Chelsea if it have not be[en] burnt down over night. And to morrow
(Sunday) if you choose to come and see me you may!

The meaning of all this will be something to tell when you come. I slept here last night! That is to say I might have slept;
if Nero had not behaved in a way that I shall not soon forget.

Bexhill2—Yes I suppose I shall go to Bexhill on Monday—I don't know for certain—I don't know anything for certain except that Nero
is head and ears in love with “Mrs. Tott-oonter's”3 spaniel. What an absurd creature a dog in love is! almost as absurd as a man!